Paper Bullets
by fAnGiRl4Life005
Summary: I do not run because I am afraid. I do not run because I am weak. I do not run because I will die. I run because I am strong. I am fearless. I am invincible. I am a shaker of words and holder of secrets. -Book Two of The Flawed trilogy-
1. Prologue

Got a secret,

Can you keep it?

Swear this one you'll save...

Better lock it in your pocket, taking this one to grave.

If I show you,

Then I know you,

Won't tell what I said.

Because two can keep a secret,

If one of them is dead.

_- The Pierces_

* * *

My name is Penelope Spice and I have a fire inside of me.

A fire with beautiful flames.

It is always burning, blazing, smoldering without relent, spiking my nerves, and making me jump.

But I love it.

Its power and control is simply supreme and makes me feel alive, even though I feel dead.

It makes me want to scream and go crazy, suddenly bursting into a state of insanity and disturb the normalcy of life; but I never do. I always stomp out the fire. Choke it until its last breath and then it starts again, in its everlasting blaze of glory.

But I warn you,

My fire is a dangerous one.

The world is colorless and bland, silent and distressed, and inside of me is only thing that could free it.

The fire. The flames.

The colors, the sounds, the emotions, the shapes, the _feelings_! Of everything that I am or ever was.

I am a locked gate of an old abandoned haunted house, scaring the neighborhood kids at night.

I am a safe in the back of your closet, holding a life savings for a trip you will never venture on.

I am the fear of being free.

I am a holder of _**secrets.**_

If I set them free, it could change everything- for better or for worse.

I fear for the worst.


	2. The Event

Each chapter of my story, of my life, I will reveal a secret to you.

One of my precious secrets.

But I warn you now and do not forget-

At the end of this story, I am dead.

* * *

Lying.

The only way to hide what you don't want others to find.

Your _**secrets**__._

It's a game of strategy, really.

You lead them down one path and they could believe you through and through.

Lead them down another, and your lies are only digging the hole deeper.

And deeper, and deeper.

Until you are buried alive, clawing for air, fighting to breathe, to escape, to _**live**_.

That's when your mouth whispers the truth, wanting to be set free.

But who's listening now?

You're just the boy who cried wolf.

That's when the truth just becomes whispers in the wind…

…And I am the only one left listening.

But there is only one thing you need to know about me:

I prefer the silence.

* * *

"Arabesque!"

We lift our legs all in one motion like a machine, each taking a breath in unison.

"And fouetté!"

Clea, Passé, and then second position.

I'm spinning and the room is filled with a light breeze. I control my right leg with precision.

Open, close, open, close, open close-

I watch as Miss Danner points to me smiling.

"And Penelope, variation!"

I break from the group in a quick, swift motion and jump straight from a demi-plié in fifth.

I am soaring across the floor, the mirror echoing my smile around the room and I close my eyes as I land gracefully back into fifth position. I repeat the same thoughts I always have when training.

I am _perfection_.

I imagine the applause of a crowd bigger than any coliseum could ever hold.

Rumbling, an earth quake.

I open my eyes.

* * *

Every day I wake up and I am alone.

I live in a large white colonial house, perched on the shore, with no brothers or sister to keep my company.

Or parents.

Dedicated to a life of science, they both work at a large experimental institution about 100 miles from home, leaving their only daughter to often fend for herself. I still attend my high school and even hold down a babysitting job, despite being alone.

I have grown accustom to it, though.

Another important fact about me:

Whenever I am afraid or scared or lonely, I play with numbers.

I count.

One, two, three- twelve steps down the stairs.

One, two, three- fifty spoonfuls of cereal.

One, two, three- one hundred sixty-four stares from kids down the hallway.

Sometimes when I no longer feel like counting, I listen to my thoughts. My own voice ringing inside my head. I imagine the sounds of things I've never gotten to hear before, maybe a waterfall or the sizzle of water on pavement on a hot summer's day.

When I no longer want to listen to my thoughts, I think about _them_.

The secrets.

My secrets.

Your secrets.

Everyone's secrets.

I know them all.

But with such power, comes responsibility.

Maybe I can control myself.

Maybe I can't.

Or maybe,

I just don't want to.

* * *

Looking around, I see everyone is looking out beyond the large glass frame covering one side of the room void of mirrors; a one sided window into the hall. A man with curly black locks paces in his dirty black converse, looking around with curious eyes, touching the gold statues on display. My cheeks burn as everyone looks back to me.

"Miss Spice, I do believe your ride is here…" Miss Danner says. I try not to look embarrassed as I grab my bag as quickly as I can and flee the room, shutting the door as softly as possible. I turn towards him and he grins walking up to me, pulling at my tutu as always. When he asks I shake my head, so he begins talking carefully, punctuating each word.

"Did I interrupt your class?" Zeke says, peering into the window again. I shake my head. A sheepish smile lies delicately on his face.

"Good. I thought I was going to distract you during your solo and you'd hit the glass or something." He says. I smile holding back and laugh and shake my head again.

"Why are you so early," I wonder.

Zeke cringes a little and I raise a brow.

"Collins feeling real sick and mom's already way gone. Needed super nanny." He answers, putting his hands together in prayer. I roll my eyes and stride past him. The second I wave at him to follow, a skip in his step appears while he catches up and I smile.

* * *

The White family.

I've been babysitting them since Collin was born, so three years total.

I remember the day I was hired vividly.

Flyer in hand, I knocked on their door, crashing and crying evident on the inside. A middle aged women with too many wrinkles opened the door and invited me in hastily. At first I was confused, when I saw Zeke for example. A fifteen year old boy at the time. I remember exactly what I said to him too. Seeing the mess the two boys were making and the baby crying and his poor mother rushing around cleaning, I stomped right up to Zeke and spoke.

"You ungrateful sack of bones, you need to help your mother! She can't do this alone, you know!"

That was the first time I ever spoke so loudly, so confidently, to anyone. Zeke just stared and Ms. White led me away to show me around. Later, she explained just how bad Zeke was with kids. Today, I completely understand.

Zeke makes a sharp left turn and I return to reality.

Staring out the window of Zeke's quiet blue camery, I pretend a little man is running alongside the car, jumping over various obstacles. Running, then jumping, then dodging and ducking. I smile to myself and look down to my worn out ballet shoes.

My imagination has been my only true friend for as long as I can remember.

It's always there, always waiting for a moment to cheer me up or entertain me. It never leaves like people, and it never disappoints like people.

But most of all, it never pities.

That's what I love most about it.

Loving my imagination more than a person sounds crazy, I know.

But maybe that's all I really am.

It's always the quiet ones, right?

Insanity.

The word stings at my eyes and throat.

Maybe that's just another one of my secrets.

Not even I know.

I return my stare to the window.

* * *

"Penny!"

The short seven year old races across the carpet and latches two arms around one of my legs. I ruffle his hair and he shows me how he's learning to talk like me with masterful hands.

"Like this, then this, and this! See? See? I can do it now too!" He grins and I kneel to his level for a hug.

"Where is Collin?" I ask. Noah cringes and points to the living room, left of the kitchen and a ways away from the front door. I nod and stand, glaring once again at Zeke.

"I already said I was sorry!" He says with hands up. I leave him with Noah and walk slowly to the living room. About halfway through the car ride, I finally realized none of the kids were in the car. Zeke had left a 3 year old, a 7 year old and an 11 year old home alone. He really was hopeless with children.

I step around large piles of toys on the way to his room and suddenly begin to see the problem. Vomit, everywhere. But not of food. Of blood.

I rush faster and make it into his room breathlessly.

"Collin?" I whisper. His room is trashed, scratches on the furniture and vomit on everything. Jeremy stands over the crib, his back hunched as he peers downward. I tap his shoulder and hazel eyes filled with tears meet my golden. I crane my head to see into the crib.

A rarity happens.

I scream.

* * *

Counting, observing, reviewing.

Count.

One, two, three, four, five.

I always allow five seconds of fear. That is all.

Observe.

Today in biology I dissected a rat. In orchestra I was yelled at by someone unknown to my secret. During lunch outside, a newspaper rolled by, an article about over population. A fire drill I never knew was happening during study hall, happened.

Review.

Collin is very sick. Needs to get to a hospital. The television in the living room is no longer playing barney, only the news. The president is on.

Zeke is pulling at my shoulder as we rush the kids to the car.

Something is happening.

Something terrible.

* * *

Secret One:

I am deaf.


	3. The Plague

A man once said,

Time is the most important thing in humanity's life span; because every moment is worth a life itself.

Would this mean that with every second that rolls by, you are one step closer to the end?

...It's true, isn't it?

The inevitable.

Death.

But for some reason, we fight.

We live.

We _prosper._

Breathe, blink, think, experience life- until the very last moment.

You wonder what comes after.

Maybe you already know.

But _I_ do know one thing, though.

I know it is not this.

Z-Day is not humanity's last breath.

* * *

People are running in front of the car, as Zeke frantically swerves from left to right. I clutch the moaning boy in my arms and turn to face Noah and Jeremy in the back seat; Noah in tears, Jeremy fighting his. I make Jeremy speak for me.

"What's happening, Zeke? Why is everyone panicking?" Comes Jeremy's voice, hitched with sobs. I brush the brown locks from his face and offer my hand, which he takes gratefully. Zeke shakes his head roughly and dodges another bystander in the road, picking up speed every time Collin coughs.

"I don't know. I don't know." I watch him mouth. I squeeze Jeremy's hand as I watch the world fall in front of my very eyes outside the window.

The first thing I see, ironically to me, is fire.

Great big fires, stringing from shop to shop along the sidewalks edges.

The second, madness.

I see it in their eyes.

I hear it in their thoughts.

I feel it in their secrets.

Noah thrashes from side to side wailing, and finally begins to notice the looters practically running alongside the car. He screams louder and Zeke slams a hand on the dash.

"Jeremy, make him shut up! Please!"

Jeremy releases my red hand and begins treating Noah, though I know just how much he can tolerate. His tears are almost out.

"Pen, something's wrong. Really, really wrong. Maybe it's a terrorist attack or something, but I don't know if a hospital will be-"

My eyes look up from his mouth as the car slows and I look out the windshield. The hospital is surrounded by police, as I am surrounded by my thoughts.

* * *

"Get inside, get inside! Try to remain calm and move quickly into the building, everyone!" The police yell. Zeke squeezes my hand and makes me keep my head low as Jeremy takes my other hand; Noah wailing in his arms, Collin suddenly quiet in mine.

Crowds, hoards of people are being mushed into the front lobby and halls of the hospital. The smell of sweat, fear, and adrenaline fills the silence in my head as I watch mouths run for miles. Zeke pulls our little family to the front of the line through sheer determination. No employees are present.

"Hello? I need help over here!" He says, looking around. Some refugees stop to stare, but no workers take notice. The crowd is pressing harder up against our backs.

"Excuse me? Could anyone help us?!" He says, spinning around, trying to gain someone's attention. The police are starting to try and close the large glass doors. Jeremy tells me he hears gunfire in the distance and I can only nod.

When I see Zeke's face again, I know he's had enough.

He slams a hand down on the plastic counter top, shaking various Purell bottles in the process and alert staff in scrubs rushing by. They stare at us.

"Excuse me, we need help. My brother is really sick and-"

"I'm sorry sir, but we're kind of in a state of emergency and there's so many people, so If you could just-"

"HE'S DYING!"

The crowd's mouths stop moving and they stare at Zeke's open one. I look at Collin's feverish face and grab Zeke's sleeve tightly and his body relaxes briefly.

Zeke rarely yells.

Suddenly, our little family is of no longer importance and the crowd turns its attention to a small television set in the children's waiting area. I notice the doors to the hospital are closed and locked.

"Today, our nation- our _planet_ has become under attack by an unknown virus. This virus, is very deadly. It is apparently bringing back the dead, or 'infected', then having them attack the living. We advise you to stay in your homes and isolate the infected, and be prepared to wait this all out until it blows over. Take all precautions to board up your homes and businesses and to avoid any contact with the dead and stay safe. We are going to stay on the air as long as possible..." The newscaster was grimacing with the sweat on his brow worsening. I turn my head away and try to smile at Collin's tearful face. The man on the television- his lips spoke both truths and lies.

Though no one else but the White family could tell, I was shaken to my very core.

Any other news could've made sense.

A terrorist attack, a natural disaster, an alien invasion-

Well, maybe not that..

But this? It was impossible, unbelievable, it was-

Happening.

The teenage fantasy of Z-Day was upon them.

I fall in line with the crowd as they turn from the television to a police man, guarding the hospital doors.

"Alright, everyone alright! I would like everyone to remain calm!"

Zeke is pulling us away from the crowd, his face in a set panic.

"Zeke, it's alright. It'll be alright.." Suddenly I am the source of all calmness and happiness in the world and everyone looks to me. Collin's dark brown eyes, Jeremy's hazel, Noah's pale blue and Zeke's stormy grey skies. I smile at them and pull them into a hug, whispering reassuring words in their ears.

Whispering calming, soothing words.

Uttering soft, gracious, comforting ballads of language.

Murmuring consoling stories of a paradise that does not exist.

Telling them lies.

* * *

Secret Two:

I know your secrets.


	4. The Innocent

It's true, you know.

Your secrets; I know them all.

By no fault of mine,

I can sense, smell, taste, feel, and see- the secrets you try so desperately to hide.

Every since I was young, I've had this ability.

They are whispers in my head at night, telling me things I do not want to hear.

When you walk by me, they are plastered on your face and wafting from your clothes.

You cannot hide the truth from me.

It's impossible.

For children, the innocent secrets are what I tolerate best.

Didn't do homework, failed a test, hurt a sibling, drew on the walls-

They are sweet and make me smile.

But adults…

We are disgusting creatures with secrets.

I have to cover my ears and turn away, willing the voices to stop, willing the information to disappear, but the grief of the person is always stronger than my will. I cannot stop myself from knowing.

It is my curse and my gift.

It is my alpha and my omega.

It is my weakness and my strength.

Secrets are _made_ to be exposed.

* * *

"What do you mean we can't? We can leave whenever we want, this is America!"

The men pressed harder against the police officers, who in return pushed them back with greater force.

Then the voices start and I clutch Collin to my chest cringing.

_I slept with my dentist._

_I killed Kenny's hamster._

_I stole 20 dollars from mom's wallet._

"I said, stay calm! It is safer in here than it is out there!" One officer says through gritted teeth. The crowd continues yelling and protesting, when one officer climbs up onto the reception desk behind us. He points angrily at the mob.

_I spit in his food._

"Don't you see? Take a look outside, people! Looters with guns and an infection! This is the safest place-"

_I killed that little girl._

The people are not happy and start to up rise against their oppressors.

Adrenaline rushes through me as I fumble for Zeke's hand, the crowd roaring against my back.

Zeke drags us roughly away, farther from the crowd until the people are just a mass in the lobby. His eyes are flickering dangerously, dark clouds in his grey skies.

He tells me he hears banging on the doors and I look at Noah and Jeremy.

"We have to get Collin some medical attention before anything." I tell them firmly, but Zeke shakes his head almost invisibly and his eyes wander to Collin. I stare down at his dark brown hazy eyes, open wide and glazed over. This is when I realize Collin is cold.

One.

Don't cry.

Two.

Whatever you do, do not cry.

Three.

Take control of the situation.

Four.

Stand your ground.

Five.

Protect them.

Zeke is holding two crying boys as I hold their dead brother in my arms before them.

I am motionless and bite the inside of my lip out of habit. Not a tear, Penny. Not a tear.

The lights begin to flicker and I look back to the ground, the muffled hymn of pounding feet approaching. They are running toward us.

A **twitch** in my arms, barely noticeable.

I step back, mouth dropped open. The lobby doors have been crushed by looters...

...And the infected.

The twitch grows and a persistent tugging on my sleeves ensues as I look down. Collin is moving; bloodshot white eyes locked lazily on mine, his mouth spitting blood.

"_ZEKE_!" I screech, horrified.

Collin lunges to chop down on my neck, but I thrust him away from my face, unwilling to drop him. Zeke tries to take him from me, only resulting in Collin trying to bite him instead.

Jeremy lurches him from both of our grasps and tosses Collin onto the floor, resulting in me yelling more and shaking Jeremy by the shoulders.

It's not Collin, He says over and over.

It's not him, Penny.

I look from him to the child and see what he sees.

The _zombie _was crawling towards us again, head twisted 180 degrees around, grinning a bloody grin upside down. I instantly grab Noah and hull him up to carry him.

The crowd is upon us now.

And that's when the lights go out.

* * *

If I can't see, I can't read lips. If I can't read lips, I can't read hands. If I can't read hands, I am lost.

The only thing sense I still have is touch, without the lights, and they are tightly wound around Zeke's hand.

Zeke is my lifeline, my savoir, the ruler of all my actions.

He is like the father my father never was.

The brother I never had.

The friend I always deserved.

And my only light to find my way home.

* * *

Jeremy shakes me awake, pulling me with him and I comply. Zeke is desperately kicking at a security-code locked door. When he tries a new code a fourth time, a red blinking light appears on top of the door. Then suddenly all the lights in the building are blinking red.

Followed by what I assume to be a piercing siren, only ending up to be a muffled shriek in my ears.

Jeremy starts to argue with Zeke, but Zeke grabs him and ushers me to follow in his new plan.

We re-join the panicked crowd, and slip through any gaps we can find and run.

The lights create a strobe lighted path to a staircase on our right. Zeke shoves Noah and I up the stairs and I fly faster than a bullet.

No idea where I'm going, but I'd rather not be trampled.

I trip up the stairs clumsily and slide to a halt at the top and looking left and right wildly.

Shadows from the left.

I wait.

The shadows reveal bodies.

Tripping over each other to greet us, a blood trail left in their wake. A group of zombies in scrubs.

I only hear my heart beating against my chest as I dart down the right hallway, hoping Zeke and Jeremy are hot on my trail.

Noah is screaming in my ear, but all I can do is run and run, until I can't breathe.

How big is this fucking hospital?!

I yelp as I feel hands around me, arms pushing me to go farther, bodies rushing against me and I clutch Noah as I hit the floor, covering his head.

Save him.

Save him not me.

_Save him_, I pray.

* * *

Secret three:

I have a deathly fear of hieghts.


	5. The Missing

When I hear voices in my thoughts; _your _voices, and _your _secrets-

They are my definition of normal.

I do not know what the definition of a normal voice would be for people with the gift of hearing, but they can only be described as echoes.

They bounce around my skull, hoping I'll take an _**initiative.**_

They want me to confront, dissect, explain and expose-

The secrets _always_ want to be heard.

It begins as a dull ache in the back of my head, later fighting into a roaring migraine until; I can't take it anymore.

That's when I scream.

I lock myself away somewhere secluded and scream to my heart's content until I am weak and motionless.

The faded noises of my own voice, stretching and screeching against closed doors; it is what I hate the most. I do not wish to hear the distressing sounds. I do not wish to hear only the loudest noises my body can muster.

It makes me hate myself. Screaming just to hear _something_.

_Someone__._

But all I really want is to hear someone other than me.

Sometimes, I wish to be that someone else.

A girl who talks too much, a girl who's loud and laughs all the time-

A girl who can _actually hear_.

Not only that though.

I wish to be a girl,

Who is not afraid of hearing her own voice.

* * *

We shall live another day, it seems.

Strong familiar arms are hauling me to my feet as my legs shake and eventually take me into a carrying position. Noah is taken by Jeremy as we are repeatedly hit by people rushing past us. Zeke's strong grey eyes comfort me, though my shaking doesn't help.

Why am I so afraid?

One moment we are in the crowded hallway of a broken hospital, the next-

On the roof.

When Zeke sets me down, I look over the edge of safety and into the dying eyes of a naive civilization.

The surroundings down below are just what you would imagine them to be.

Except a thousand times worse.

Because it's real.

The fires are raining down from the heavens, explosions in the distance their audience and the opened-mouth screams from the wounded their applause.

All water has turned to blood.

Bodies in the creeks, the main river they all connect to turning pink just down town.

I shiver runs up my spine and back down again for another round.

It is judgment day.

I look to Zeke and give him what I believe to be my most panicked expression. He reassures me with a consoling caress of my cheek. His hand lingers down to mine, where he slowly hooks his pink with mine.

A promise.

I look from our hands to his face confusedly.

"I'll find you." He mouths.

I blink and he has already left my side, disappearing back into the building.

I'm running to the door before I can even think.

"Where is he going?! Where is he going?" I try yelling, pulling at the roofs heavy metal door. It doesn't budge.

Zeke locked the door.

Jeremy is pulling me back.

"He'll be back, he said he's going to look for some help or a weapon or something-"Jeremy keeps talking as I pull Noah into my side tightly. My eyes are everywhere, searching the roof, Jeremy's suddenly tight features; Noah's tearful eyes.

"We can't stay here." I sign.

I need him.

I need him.

I _need _him.

"How can he just leave me…" I whimper, sliding down and sitting on the ground. I press my hands to my face as hard as I can and fight the tears away.

Need to think, need to think-

I stand back up and walk to the edge of the roof, surveying the drop. It looks manageable, if there were something to step down on. If Zeke were here he'd- I turn back to the two boys staring at me hopefully.

I bite my lip harshly and shut my eyes tight.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

When I open my eyes, my fire roars within me.

Begging to be set free.

There is no time for fear anymore.

I cannot be afraid.

I _will _not be afraid.

I will be one of the brave.

* * *

"Where are we going? Penny? Where are-"

"Just trust me, Jeremy. Now give me your hand."

I lower Jeremy down onto the garbage container below, Noah jumping after him.

It's not that high. It's not that high.

I close my eyes and then finally jump myself. Jeremy's eyes strain toward the roof as I pull them close to me again and search the alley way for enemies. Discarded papers and misplaced shoes, but no zombies. Or humans.

"Zeke." Jeremy croaks shaking me.

My heart drops a little.

"Zeke, we have to wait for Zeke." He says, pleading with me. I look back up to the roof and my lips form a tight line.

Zeke never came back.

The sun dips below the horizon to prove it.

"He'll meet us at my house." I say, looking into Jeremy's eyes. He wavers a little bit more, then gives in to me. He mouths a lazy agreement and I squeeze his hand.

I have no idea where Zeke is.

I have no idea if he is still alive.

I have no idea if he'll go to my house.

All I know is that I am all that is left in this world for Noah and Jeremy.

And I am not afraid.

* * *

Secret four:

My mother is an evil person.


	6. The Brave

Hint: Remember the **secrets**. Count the **mistakes**.

* * *

The day she found out that I knew her secrets was the day that I was forced to give up my childhood.

There was no going back after that; I had become an adult.

It was her curiosity that did me in.

The seed had been planted in her mind, growing and growing until she _needed_ to know, no matter the cost: My life.

My mother is a manipulative, evil, deceitful, and overruling person who always get what she wants.

And her profession of scientific questioning only fuels her fire.

She is, and always has been, an evil mad scientist.

A woman with a tight lip, a tight whip, and a tight household.

A woman who's already sold her soul to the devil and has to give an IOU to the government.

A woman who only sees me as an experiment, rather than a living breathing young woman.

She secretly doesn't want to be this way, but she is-

She is exactly like her mother.

But how would I know that anyway?

She would shake me, pinch me, inject me with unknown liquids, and then throw me in her lab to see what would happen.

The cameras would glint in excitement each time I screamed.

The headaches, the nausea, the shivers that engulfed me-

I was petrified.

"How?" She would ask.

"How do you know their secrets?"

I don't know. I don't know.

Can you hear them, too?

I would bang on the clear glass, crying and pleading. She would stare back at me, taking notes.

_Notes._

Can nobody hear me?

Can nobody hear my suffering?

That is when, I saw another face behind her.

Almost hiding in the darkness, surrounded by a cloud of guilt slowly etching into his features.

"Daddy?"

* * *

"The car is gone."

"I can see that." I reply exasperatedly.

"Hey, I wanna see!" Noah takes one step forward before both Jeremy's hand and mine fly onto his shoulder. We firmly pull him back to safety. Or that is, back into the alleyway.

"Noah, you need to stay close to us."

"Why?"

Take a look around, I almost say. But I catch myself. He is just a child.

But I ask myself the same question as I tighten my hold on his shoulder. Why? Why is it so dangerous to walk on the streets that we have always walked on before?

More like how.

How did things go from bad to worse in just under a few hours?

The fires aren't dying down. It looks as if a bomb has dropped over the quiet suburban community, killing everything and everyone one in its path. The secrets are only whispers now.

They have never been this quiet.

"Let me go look around for a second, okay? I want you two to stay right here. Do you understand?" I sign to them. Jeremy nods and Noah looks down.

Without meaning to, I sign again.

"Scream if you need me."

Good going, Pen. Scream for the deaf girl to save you.

Perfect.

I glide away from them steadily, walking into the parking lot of the hospital as if it were any other normal day. There are no people in sight.

The place where Zeke's car used to be is covered in tire tracks and swirls. I bend down to touch them only to pull my hand away cursing. The rubber is still burning on the asphalt. The car has just been taken.

Did Zeke take it?

Or did a looter?

I turn back and motion for the boys to follow me. They take a second to catch up as I start at a steady pace toward an unmarked van down the street. New car, new location. Fresh start, then we find him. We find Zeke.

Shadows out of the corner of my eye and I pull the boys to my side and pick up speed.

"Where are we going?" Noah asks repeatedly. I pick him up as we make a break for the car.

"What happened here?" Jeremy says and I tell him not to look.

_Please_ don't look.

I get to the van just in time to see the shadows form into staggering shapes coming toward us. I put Noah down and yank the van's doors. Locked.

Of course they are.

"Find a rock, Jeremy. A rock, okay? Can you do that?" The second I see his face again, I know I am asking for too much. But he braves my orders and comes up with a large rock in under a minute.

"Cover your eyes!"

I slam into the glass as hard as I can, earning a crack that resonates in my lungs. I look back and I see them.

**A mass of the undead.**

I bite my lip and slam the window again, harder this time. Tiny little cracks branch from the larger, but nothing else.

"C'mon, c'mon!"

Another slam, and I am attracting them to us. I am killing us. I am killing us.

The window will not break.

Jeremy grabs my wrists and I drop the rock in shock, stumbling backwards. He catches it easily, hauling it up to his shoulder, swinging his arms with all his might. Noah grasps at my pant leg.

I watch the eleven year old break the driver side window into pieces, tears spilling from his eyes.

Am I _that _useless?

Noah is screaming and pointing behind us and I snap back to reality.

"Get in, get in!" I say, unlocking the doors with an arm through the window. My head pulls me to look up and I do. The driver stares back at me, blood soaking his features.

A dead stare.

I have made **the first mistake**.

My mouth is moving and my hands are reaching, but it's already too late.

The two boys open the car doors and corpses fall onto the ground in front of them; a family of bodies.

The innocence has been broken.

* * *

Secret five:

I have killed before.


	7. The Deceitful

_Deception_(de·cep·tion)

[dih-**sep**-sh_uh_n]

_**noun**_

The act of deceiving; the state of being deceived.

Something that deceives or is intended to deceive; fraud; artifice.

* * *

I would usually stop here and explain the meaning behind my secret, but this is one of the special.

Understand that some secrets will have to explain themselves.

But that secret…

Those four powerful words.

As you read them, a knot forms in the bottom of your stomach.

A hitch in your breath, a small pool of sweat forming on your brow as it becomes furrowed. Pulse elevates, adrenaline pumps, heart begins to race.

You question my existence.

Am I the protagonist or the antagonist?

The hero or the villain?

The killer or the victim?

I'll give you something to latch onto: Every person has something to hide.

So even if I am telling you my story and my secrets whole heartedly, you don't know if I've left out anything. If I've skipped some dirty things I wanted to bury.

Ask yourself the question, go ahead.

Can you trust me?

Just because I am your narrator doesn't mean that I am always telling the truth.

* * *

I'm running for the hills before I know it. Noah and Jeremy are dragged with me. I see Jeremy's mouth running a mile a minute in the corner of my eye.

"What about the car?! What about the car?"

Noah is dangerously quiet.

The landscape we cross is treacherous- the town is literally burning before our eyes. Crash cars in the middle of the streets, zombies staggering and eating corpses-

All I hear is my heart beat and it is the only thing that keeps me sane.

And Zeke.

He keeps me sane, too.

We pass people, Noah and Jeremy and I, we pass people who are running for their lives too. I have to tighten my grip on the boys to restrain them from stopping though. Those people cannot be helped, I say. It is too late.

Jeremy asks if it is too late for us as well.

Too quickly our pace dies down and we move lethargically along the sidewalks, hearts pounding and eyes searching.

The zombies that were in pursuit of us are long gone, but nowhere is safe.

Because there are always more to catch you.

One second we're resting and catching our breath, the next mobs of zombies are trickling down the road like water on a window. The smell hits us intensely and I cup a hand over my mouth.

"Don't breathe it in!" I yell at the boys, though I don't even know how to keep it out of myself. I turn to them and bring them in my arms, pushing them forward but their legs drag.

_We're tired, Penny. We're tired_.

"We _have_ to keep moving-"Once I start pleading with them, Noah start to cry again and Jeremy is holding his face and my head is turning in every direction. The disgusting walking dead are caving in on their prey; a poor deaf girl and two children.

One **regret **happens here.

I scream.

* * *

If I wouldn't have screamed, I wouldn't have met him.

I didn't have to meet him.

It's just another burden on my shoulders, along with the rest of the apocalyptic world. Well, more so that girl than me, but really- I was feeling the weight just as much as she was.

It didn't have to come to this, it really didn't.

But it did.

These times made people do crazy things and I was just caught up in those emotions.

This is the part of the story where I became the soldier.

My lieutenant is Fear.

My general is Courage.

My commander is Isolation.

Forget fear.

Have courage.

Pride yourself in isolation.

Remember the quote: "_Humans are more dangerous than zombies." – Amelia Grey, Chapter 13._

__It's time to start living.

* * *

Secret Six:

The pass code is 61496.


	8. The Fighters

The surrounding zombies fall to the ground, one by one. I look around, every bone in my body shaking.

Was it the work of God?

Then the whole scene is exploding with blood. Zombies exploding, zombies falling and crashing into the earth; a total blood bath. It reminds me how my hands are stained.

When the men start coming out from the shadows, I reprimand my last thoughts.

So many cold, exhausting, painful nights shoved in the laboratory.

There is no God.

"Hey, are you alright?"

I push the boys behind me as the men with guns approach us. There are 6, maybe 8 of them. Too much for me to handle.

"I asked, are you alright, young lady?" The gun barrel dangles loosely in the air between us. A tall man towers over me and I stare back.

His eyes are such a dark blue, I mistake them for black.

When I don't answer him, his friends' chuckle around us.

"Tough one. Makes sense though, right? To have survived out here this long and with kids even…" He goes to peak around my shoulder and I put my hand against his chest, pushing him away. He raises a brow and puts up his hands.

"I won't hurt you, I swear. We only want to help."

I open my mouth, and then decide against speaking. My voice is_ disgusting_.

My voice is my _nightmare. _

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

In the middle of my moment of self-loathing, Noah sneaks away from me and out to the man. I reach for him, but stop. The dark-eyed wonder is on his knees, a world of blood behind him- an innocent child of the apocalypse in front of him.

Though, I guess it would depend on what side you were looking at it from.

"What's your name?"

"My names Noah, and that's my brother Jeremy and that's Penny." Noah says, pointing to me. Jeremy is sizing the men up with his 10 year old glares beside me.

The man looks at me and nods.

"Penny."

I still wonder what it sounds like. My name.

From his lips.

The men are starting to look behind themselves and start to back up. I peek through the crowd only to see the familiar faces of the dead. The men are shouting about ammo, but that's the only word I can decipher from their vulgar slurs. The group darts down an alley way nearby, leaving just the dark-eyed man behind. When we make eye contact, he mouths a word to me.

_Follow._

I furrow my brows and scoff. I can take care of my family on my own.

Though the situation suddenly speaks otherwise.

As I try to escape a different route, the zombies push us back towards that alley. I don't wish to see the men again- They are a potential threat.

But the zombies beg to differ that _they_ are the biggest threat out there instead.

Step after step backwards, I am forced to push the boys in the alley with me, leading them to their death. Cornered to be killed by our own kind, only sick. The group of survivors has evaporated into thin air.

We are pushed back until a chain link fence meets our sweating faces.

"Climb!" I shove Noah up high with all my strength, then Jeremy. I turn and face the zombies alone. I watch half of a man crawl his way toward me on the ground before I close my eyes.

My foot comes down with a sickening crunch that resonates in my bones.

When I open my eyes, I am the killer I used to be all over again. Blood on my shirt and hands, a dead man's skull crushed under my foot. I look up from the corpse in fury to the other zombies and step forward.

"Who else wants it?! I'll **KILL** you all!" I hiss. One scan of the ground and I have a rusty trash can lid in my hands and I am slamming heads left and right. Blood splatters over my face, but I don't care. I am buying the boys' time to escape, that's all they need. Time is our savior.

I drop the lid and jump onto the fence, climbing as quickly as possible. The fence shakes and I feel hands on my ankles, making me jump over in a rush as I reach the top. A good 10 foot drop waits for me on the other side. I hit the ground with a thump and try not to groan, biting into my bottom lip. I open sore eyes to a sore sight.

Only to see Jeremy and Noah kneeling down next to me. But not alone.

The group of men is also there to see my display. Bewildered looks by all.

_Not a weak little girl anymore, am I?_ , I want to say.

_I fought for my right to live_.

With no one helping me up, I stand quickly letting the pain run its course. One hand finds Jeremy's and the other finds Noah's and I pull them away from the men, trying to get away from them without limping pathetically.

"Come with us, you'll be safer." One hand outreached.

I meet the tall man's eyes just once more and then I look at his whole group, before stalking away with kids in tow, into the low lying forest of trees.

My eyes said: We see your tricks.

My hands said: We will fight you.

My feet said: We will walk until we bleed.

My heart said: I will protect these children with my life.

I felt a small smile on my lips as I walked away from him that day. The silence that had probably ensued between us must have been tense, but my body language had already said a few words of its own.

Play with fire, and you're bound to get burned.

* * *

Secret Seven:

Weapons can be found in the last place you'd ever think to look.


	9. The Followers

When I was young, I had a friend. Her name was Sarah.

And she was deaf, like me.

After a while of being friends, she invited me to her house. Then in return, one day-

I invited her to mine. I made the **mistake** of bringing her over.

_Make some friends, Penelope. Deaf ones specifically. You'll have something in common, perhaps. _

Like hearing secrets? No, no that's only me mother. Suddenly the premonition that every deaf child had these abilities was upon her.

_I made a friend, mom. Her name is Sarah._

_Bring her over tomorrow._

I got to watch my only friend suffer as I had for many years. But this time I was on the other side of the glass.

On the all too familiar laboratory floor is where she finally died.

Secret five: I have killed before.

* * *

It takes me a few minutes to realize he's following us. I throw my head over my shoulder to see his mouth running and roll my eyes. He's been talking to my back the whole time. I stop Jeremy and Noah and turn to face him.

"Oh, now you decide to listen to me?" He says with arms crossed. I raise a brow at him and he almost laughs.

"Silent treatment too? Alright, I get it. A girl all alone with two kids; you're protecting them. You don't need us. But let me tell you, it's so much worse than the little killing spree you had back in the alley. Imagine hundreds of them coming all at once." He throws his arms out as if to show the number and I give my best unimpressed expression. He swings them again, even wider.

"Thousands! Millions!" He exaggerates.

I offer a shrug and he shakes his head, taking a step closer. I push the boys behind me and his arms fly up.

"Whoa, whoa- it's alright; I won't hurt them or you, I promise."

_A promise._

_I look from our hands to his face confusedly._

_"I'll find you." He mouths._

My spine snaps straight and a chill runs down my back. The man looks at me for a second longer.

"Our group could help you." He tries again. _No use_, I taunt in my thoughts.

_Just leave us be_.

Finally, he puts his hand out to me and sighs.

"My name's Jack."

I almost laugh as I turn from him again and walk with the boys, pushing past trees and bushes. Jeremy nods to behind us and I rub my temples exasperatedly. Just as I turn my head again to look, Jack is by my side, walking right with me, talking up a storm.

_This guy does not know when to give up, does he_?

"What, you're not going to tell me your name? Am I going to have to guess?" He talks and walks as if it's any other day in the woods in a time of an apocalypse.

"Aren't you supposed to be with your group?" Jeremy finally asks and I almost cry out in relief for speaking my thoughts. Jack just smirks though.

"They'll be fine. Besides, this is where I'm needed the most, right?"

_Just ignore him._

* * *

It's been 3 hours and he hasn't shut up.

I can't even hear him and yet I find his voice annoying.

After about 20 minutes of trying to get me to talk, he moved onto Noah and Jeremy who were glad for the companionship. I watch them laugh and smile with Jack and think of Zeke.

Mostly if he's alive or not.

I think of my father and mother, unfortunately. Though I ultimately come to the conclusion they are probably still hard at work at the laboratory, with not even a single thought to my well being.

I think of Mrs. White down on her business trip in Florida, thinking about if her kids are safe and sound, and then I realize what a horrible person I was to leave the family with. I've already lost two of her children.

"Penny, penny, penelopeee! I have to go potty." I'm reading Noah's lips and before I know it, our little group has come to a field of wheat grass, all stalks taller than me. I take a glance at Jack, only to see him smiling and I turn curtly to help Noah. I try to hold myself back from rolling my eyes.

_He found out my name. Lucky him_.

I stand by as Noah does his business and watch Jack closely. Very tall guy and slim, a large backpack on his back. Hair so blonde it could be white and the dark blue eyes. So far, he hasn't threatened Jeremy or Noah or myself, so I just tried to ignore his presence. But it's so hard.

All he has are questions, questions, questions.

Where were you when it started? Where are you from? What school did you go to? Are you guys related? What's your name, is it Mary? Its Mary isn't it!

And all he wants is to hear my voice.

I catch Jeremy's eye when Jack isn't looking and ask him how he's doing. Jeremy smiles and goes to respond when Jack pulls him by the hood and into the wheat, both of them completely disappearing.

"Jeremy!" I yell in distress.

I almost trip staggering to the wheat before I realize; I need Noah. I run over and throw him over my shoulder, earning a few wails and take off into the wheat. It's a maze of golden stalks and leaves, all smacking me in the face as I scream his name.

"_JEREMY_!"

Shouldn't have trusted him, shouldn't have trusted him! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I'm about to scream again, when I trip and slam down on my knees into a clearing, Noah falling out of my arms and onto the ground in front of me. The wheat is all matted down into a circle, two men standing in the center of it. One has a gun.

* * *

Secret eight:

The revolution has begun.


	10. The Abducted

"Don't you _**dare**_ lay a finger on him."

"I'm sorry."

Jack presses the barrel of the gun harder against Jeremy's head, his arm tight around his neck. Noah begins to cry.

"Give back my brother..." He sobs and my heart aches to hold him, though the gun point situation was too tricky for me to move around under.

Jack's expression is tight, a certain sadness flashing in his eyes that I can't identity quick enough. Jeremy begins to hyperventilate and I stand up from the wheat, though Jack takes a step back holding him closer.

"Stop right there. Don't come any closer, or I'll shoot."

I narrow my eyes.

"You wouldn't. All this time you could've shot us all, but you didn't. You need us. Why?" I growl. Jeremy's eyes flicker from the gun then back to me, tears dwelling close to the edge. Jack only sighs and points the gun at Noah.

"Noah, get up." He orders. Noah wipes the snot from his nose with his sleeve and whimpers, rising slowly and then quickly running behind me. Jack points the gun on me.

"Start walking."

I search his face, his posture, his actions for some kind of explanation, but find none.

"Why are you doing this?"

Jack only turns the gun back to Jeremy.

"I said walk."

"Give me Jeremy." I hiss. We enter a staring contest, and I never waver my glare. He sighs again and shoves Jeremy forward and he runs to me, crying into my shirt. I hold the two boys close, squeezing them tight.

"It's alright." I say over and over, though I know it isn't. We are going to be killed and it's my fault.

_As always._

It's as if danger is attracted to our little family.

"Walk." Jack says a little louder than last time and we do. Out of the field of golden wheat and back into the forest. He stays a few feet behind us with the gun trained on my head and we march to our deaths. Retracing our steps, back to the alley, then into the broken city. The zombies are less and less here now, too many shot down by Jack's people. I urge the boys forward as they grow weary, telling them innocent stories, wiping away their tears. I don't mind to talk aloud now, even in the presence of Jack, because they need to hear my voice. The innocent children of the apocalypse, ruined forever.

Soon we reach our destination; an abandoned factory. I look around as Jack whips out a key, unlocking the fence surrounding the building. Watch towers stand at the four corners of the land, snipers peeking out of the square windows at their peaks. Jack nudges us forward, watching the gunmen carefully.

"Why is it that you need us to join your survival group so bad?" I ask as we are forced forward, tightening my grip on Noah's and Jeremy's hands. Jack seems more jumpy, more nervous now as the factory doors open ahead of us.

"You're not joining."

A rush of adrenaline pumps through my veins as I watch him mouth those three words, fear emerging from the back of my mind. My head whips forward as we are shoved through the doors and into the factory, Jack now lagging behind.

_This is a __**trap.**_

Wires hang loosely from the ceiling, sparks emitting from their ends. Fires burn on revolving belts carrying nothing, assembly lines broken down, the machinery now useless. The factory has been converted to a base, survivors huddling around fires and boxes, some looking at us with scared expressions, others with more smug ones. Something odd strikes me about them, though. Some of the survivors are missing limbs.

A few large men, bulky with guns slung across their backs, march forward toward us.

"Hands." One of them grumbles. I look at them strangely and the man who spoke sighs.

"Put up your hands." He orders fiercely, looking at the three of us with narrowed eyes. Slowly I put my hands out and Jeremy and Noah do the same. He explains them before nodding to us and the army behind him goes mobile. My hands fly back down and grab the boys, but two men are already on me.

They grab my arms and pull me along, others doing the same to the boys. Our hands are quickly pulled apart, causing me to shout furiously. They are carrying them away from me. The looks Jeremy and Noah give me are terrifying and tears leap to my eyes.

"You let them go!" I scream, struggling against them and dragging my feet across the ground. The expressionless men mechanically respond by lifting my feet off the ground. I scream more and wiggle in their grips, throwing my head to look over my shoulder to yell to the boys, but my tongue get's caught in my throat.

Jack is standing in between the doors where we entered, frowning.

_I'm sorry,_ He mouths.

A door opens to the right of him and out comes a little boy that runs into his legs, hugging him, and Jack kneels down smiling. More men, the ones from the group that I'd met before, follow after the boy out of the door with crossed arms and smug grins. They pat Jack proudly on the back, extolling him with light hearted laughter.

No...

No, no, no, _no_!

This can't be happening.

The memory of Jack's face when Noah had wailed for his older brother flashes across my mind.

I kick and scream more, straining for Noah and Jeremy, though I know they had already been dragged out of sight. A burlap sack is placed over my head, my vision obscured and darkness consuming me.

I fight for freedom, I scream for mercy, I beg for forgiveness.

This wasn't a trap.

This was an _exchange_.

* * *

Secret nine:

In this world, it's _**eat**_ or be _**eaten**_.


End file.
